


(Un)Fulfilled

by Evening_Bat



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Multi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evening_Bat/pseuds/Evening_Bat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis had a bad habit of falling in love with people he couldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Un)Fulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Dreamwidth kinkmeme. Set within the first few episodes of the series.

With d’Artagnan, it was all in fun. The boy was so frightfully _earnest_ , so eager to be counted amongst them. Even Aramis taking shameless liberties with his person was a welcome sign of acceptance. And so Aramis flirted, and Porthos teased, and Athos rolled his eyes, and d’Artagnan blushed and brushed them off, and no one thought anything of it. Not that Aramis hadn’t thought about it; d’Artagnan was an attractive, athletic man, and Aramis would have happily spent any number of evenings in his company. But d’Artagnan only had eyes for his mystery woman and the lovely Madame Bonacieux, and Aramis wished him well with them.

With Porthos, it was pure affection. A grin ready to match his own, countless wordless conversations, arms slung over shoulders, joys shared and miseries halved, the certainty of a back against his own to guard against the world. Porthos was his best friend, the best man he knew, and Aramis would kill or die for him without hesitation. He’d never doubted that it was entirely mutual. Porthos loved him, in all the ways that mattered...but Porthos didn’t _want_ him. And that was the sad, incontrovertible, _unfair_ truth.

With Athos, there was an edge of danger to each loaded gesture, and Aramis was self-aware enough to recognize the spice it added to the game. D’Artagnan took Aramis in stride, Porthos gave as good as he got, but Athos...Athos _knew_ the truth concealed under Aramis’ liberally applied affection. Athos rarely missed a trick, in defiance of his shuttered gaze, or how deeply he drank of a bottle. He’d seen through Aramis nearly from the start of their acquaintance, and Aramis had recognized the warning in his eyes when Aramis strayed too close. Here was another man who knew what it was to love something you couldn’t have. Aramis had once hoped they might be a comfort to each other, but the loss of his “someone special” had broken something in Athos. Oh, Athos cared for him, as deeply and truly as Aramis could have hoped, but he wanted no one.

And so Aramis consoled himself with what he _could_ have. The lonely widows, the neglected wives, the girls seeking little more than an evening of shared pleasure. Fleeting connections, to be sure, but enough to blunt the edges of the unfulfilled desire that haunted his dreams. Nights spent in the arms of the women who wanted him, leaving him free to spend his days beside the men who loved him. It was sufficient to keep both body and heart sated. Not a perfect solution, perhaps, but one with which a man could be - could _learn_ to be - content.


End file.
